


Quiet Nights

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [57]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Love, POV Loki (Marvel), Peace, Quiet, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24314815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Loki spends another night thinking about the early times with you and simply enjoying the quiet.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [57]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 7
Kudos: 144





	Quiet Nights

He’d come to like the moments like this one. Quiet. Relaxed. He hadn’t meant to make you entertain him when he’d come to stay with you in your apartment. He’d just missed touching you, and his illusions weren’t enough. But now that he’d been locked up here with you, he’d noticed a new layer to your personality. It wasn’t constant. Sometimes you could go days without it. But you seemed stressed, sometimes, like you were worried that he wasn’t happy here. You did things for him—to entertain him, to please him, to feed him—that you’d never done before. He appreciated your work, and he made damn sure to return the favor, but he didn’t like that you thought you needed to do those things. 

But tonight was peaceful. He was reading one of the books from your shelf, and you were scrolling idly through your laptop. He’d set up shop at one end of your sofa, and before long, you had joined him. Your back was pressed against his side. When you’d first settled in, he’d lifted his arm so he could put it around you and feel you press more firmly against him. It rested now on your chest. Perhaps, from time to time, he would feel his attention drift from the book and towards the steady rise and fall as you breathed. 

Before he’d come here—to Midgard, here—he’d found the idea of getting involved with a human _laughable_. What was the point? Not even merely for him: for _any_ Asgardian? Thor’s attempt with that scientist hadn’t worked out, but even if it had, so what? So he’d get a few decades with her and then...that was it. That relationship had worried Loki from the very start, and it wasn’t entirely because of his scheming. He truly hadn’t wanted to see his brother hurt.

But then he’d come here and you had immediately caught his attention. You were not an Avenger, but you spent a lot of time in the Tower with them. On nights when someone made dinner for everyone, they often encouraged you to stay and eat with them. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He tried to make up for that by being especially sharp with you, cold, in hopes that it would drive you away even as he continued to watch you, but you just took in all his confusion with a shy smile and stuck around. 

Sometimes it was hard to think about anything else, with as much gratitude as he felt.

As delicate and fragile as humans could be, your body felt solid against him. It was a comforting reminder that you were there. You were _here_. And you wanted _him_ here. He heard you try to stifle a yawn and turned to kiss the top of your head. He knew better than to try to tell you to go to sleep. That’d really only make you even more determined to stay awake with him.

He should take you to bed. He wasn’t feeling particularly sleepy himself, but he could lift you into his arms and carry you into the bedroom, and then lay beside you and hold you as you fell asleep. He liked that, too. It seemed so...strange and unexpected that someone like you could let yourself be so defenseless and vulnerable with a monster in your bed. But he tried not to say that aloud too often. Every time he called himself a monster, even if he was only teasing or playfully trying to make your heart beat faster in your chest, your eyebrows furrowed and woe crept into your eyes. 

He had lived with himself for a long time now. He’d adjusted to the idea of what he was. You weren’t there yet. You didn’t see him as a monster. On his worst days, he fretted over that. One day, you were going to see what he truly was, and he was terrified of how you would react. Maybe that was another reason that he’d never considered taking up with a human. Imagine, someone as soft and precious as you being so easily able to tear him apart. You held more power than you could ever possibly know.

He turned the page in his book. You’d mentioned once, looking embarrassed, that you were sorry you didn’t have anything better for him to read. He knew you were extremely self-conscious about the books on your shelves: they were almost entirely fiction, and a large portion of them were intended for adolescents. You’d told him that you liked the writing, the way the authors in the genre tended to be more innovative and inclusive than those who wrote for adults. You’d pulled several books off of your shelf, then, and gushed about the characters, the stories, the themes. You didn’t need to justify yourself to him, but he treasured the way you did. He loved the way your eyes lit up whenever you spoke about the things you loved. You always spoke a little bit faster, words tumbling over themselves as though you felt you only had a short period of time before his attention wandered away. As though you didn’t realize that he would listen to you speak for eons.

It was true that he generally preferred your more mature selections. Right now, for example, he was thumbing through a massive collection of pieces by a man called Shakespeare. The language reminded him of home, sometimes, and the characters felt familiar. But he liked your other stories too. When he read them, inevitably he met some bright, spirited woman in the pages, and he always pictured the way your face lit up as you spoke to him.

Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Your computer screen had gone dark. He paused, almost holding his breath as he waited to see what you’d do, but you didn’t move. A fond smile curled his lips as he strained a bit to take a look at your face. You were asleep. Stubborn thing. He watched for a while, entranced by your soft breath and the peace in your features. 

You snored, a little. It was springtime, and the pollen often plagued you even here in your apartment. It clearly made it harder for you to breathe. During the day, you didn’t say a word, but at night, when you were no longer quite so conscious of your body, your breaths took on a slightly rougher sound. He’d never breathe a word of it to you, certain that you would become embarrassed and try to find a way to sleep less around him, but he liked the sound. When he woke up in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat from the nightmares that played across his mind, your breathing reassured him. It was undeniable proof that you were still living. Still beside him.

He tightened his arm around you in a halfway, sideways hug. He did a lot of things, now, that he never would have dreamed of when he was in the palace. Hugs were one of them. You were a touchy kind of person. You would throw your arms around Wanda and Sam and even Steve without a second thought. Early on, you never tried to touch him, though, and he’d had to choke down his jealousy when another man got to wrap his arms around the small of your back. It was embarrassing, but he’d snapped once, not long after Steve had seemingly crushed you in a super-soldier bear hug. He’d made some snide remark as Steve left the room, and you’d only tilted your head at him in confusion. Remembering the ensuing conversation always filled Loki with regret, knowing how he’d spat venom at you about how you touched everybody but him. His mind had been convinced that you were afraid of him, and surely his words were only making that even more true. 

When he was finished, he couldn’t look you in the eye. Even as he’d yelled at you, he’d known that he was in the wrong. He’d tried to turn his back and stalk away from you, but you’d reached out to grab his wrist. You explained everything. You thought he hated you. You thought you were respectfully giving him space. Your voice had held nothing but sweet apologies as you tried to pull him in close. He tried to memorize the way your fingers felt on his skin. Then you’d let go of his arm and slipped your arms around his waist, holding him so tightly that he could feel your muscles start to tremble. He hadn’t meant to, but he hugged you back.

After that, if you were in the Tower and weren’t working on something with someone else, you were typically within arm’s reach of him. Somehow you were able to tell without asking when he wanted to be touched and when he wanted to be left alone. And when he _thought_ he wanted to be left alone but actually wanted to be touched. You were maybe the most perceptive human he’d ever known, and it didn’t take long before he had to come to the uncomfortable realization that he liked you.

He loved you.

Gently, he reached out to close your computer. You didn’t stir. He hummed your name against the top of your head, then nuzzled you softly. This time, you whined. He grinned despite himself. When you were half-asleep—or more—you always seemed especially precious. You tried to turn onto your side so you could bury your face in his arm, but he shook you.

“Let’s to bed, love. I’ll come too.” 

You growled something under your breath, and he didn’t need to look at you to picture your scowl. He laughed to himself and sat up, rising to his feet and quickly bending down to take you into his arms before you could make yourself comfortable in his spot. You protested, but it was in vain. He knew you didn’t like to be carried like this, thought you were too large or too old or something, but it was easy for him. He brought you into the bedroom and laid you down on the mattress. When he slid into bed beside you, you turned to face him and gave him a dirty look.

“I hate that.”

He laughed again, and tried to hide it by leaning forward so he could kiss your forehead. “I love you.”

You yawned again and then nestled a little closer to him so he could feel your body’s warmth. “Love you too.”

It would be a while before he fell asleep, himself, but you kept him company, as always, with your soft breath and your hand on his chest.


End file.
